


Sauc(er)y Times

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uther's n°1 rule is: no saucery allowed in Camelot! But doesn't every rule have its exception?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sauc(er)y Times

"...because the corn tax is already too ingrained!" Uther chuckles at his own joke, sitting back and slapping his knee. He then waves a dismissive hand, and chairs scrape over the ground as everyone hurries outside. With one last chuckle Uther stands up as well and struts towards his room.

It's just past noon and Uther has been having a good day so far. He and his advisors have established that they really could not acquit taxes for the farmers in the lower town, not even after a terrible fire burned all their crops, as the good of the town still goes before the needs of individuals. Besides, the law is the law, and there really cannot be any exceptions on that. So, in good spirit, he pushes open the door to his chambers with his mouth corners still upwards.

The door shuts behind him, and he walks towards his desk, ready to do some more paper shuffling until dinner. However, as he seats himself and reaches to take off his leather gloves, a voice speaks up.

"I'd leave those on for a little while longer, if I were you." The voice is low and comforting and vaguely familiar. Uther's head snaps up, and his own face is staring back at him. Uther's the king, so obviously he is rich enough to own a mirror--several, even--but it's not nearly the same as having a three-dimensional version of it to look at. It's very discomfiting.

Uther jumps up and grabs his sword, pointing it at this...other man. "Saucery!"

The man, previously leaning against his bedpost, rights his posture and moves his hands into the air, holding them above his head. He chuckles. It's a horrible sound. "Woah, woah. Do you really want to harm this?" he says, and lowers one hand again to gesture at himself.

"Who are you?" Uther hisses, choosing to ignore him. "What do you want?" The man chuckles again, and already the sound is grating on his nerves. "I'm you. And it's all about what _you_ want."  
  
Uther does't relax his grip on his sword one bit, but he raises his eyebrows in silent question, the situation strange enough to bring him out of balance. If he wasn't so surprised, he'd have run the man through already.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about! I'm you, as I said. I know your deepest, darkest desires. I know what you  _really_ long for."  
  
The man then imitates Uther's gesture, raising his brow as well, but instead of questioning it looks suggestive and horror starts to dawn on Uther.  
  
The man smirks. "I know the true reason why you never sought company after Ygraine died."

Uther stiffens. If it was anyone else, he'd have run them through a second time. Only he can bring her up! But well, it  _is_ he.

The man nods in acknowledgment and continues. "You realised that you'd never find another as beautiful as her...except for yourself. You're too smitten by yourself--your genius, your humour,  _your body_ \--to have eyes for anyone else. The only person you'd share a bed with anymore that's not Ygraine, is yourself."

Uther lets go of his sword then. This man truly must be him, for it's his best guarded secret, and no one would ever come close enough to Uther to ever learn it.

The man then lowers his other hand as well, and walks towards Uther, stripping himself of his jacket and draping it over a chair.

Uther is rooted to the spot as his clone approaches, only stumbling back when the man closes the last of the space between them. But the man grabs him by his jacket, the leather of his gloves squeaking lightly as he undoes Uther of his jacket, too. He pulls loose the string at the top of Uther's shirt before walking back towards the bed, hips swaying softly.

Uther gulps. He's never seen his own behind, and he wasn't prepared for the sight. His cock starts to swell in his trousers, and he hastens to pull off his shirt. He leaves the gloves on, remembering the other man's first instruction  _and_ his own love of leather.

The clone in the meantime has settled on the bed and is watching Uther through hooded eyes. "I know what you want, remember? Let me give it to you."  
  
And Uther decides to forgo all of his questions and to just give in.

 


End file.
